Reclaiming Dreams
by Mele
Summary: Sequel to Shattered Dreams...life goes on....


**_Disclaimer:_**_ Not mine; no way, no how. Shame that, since I woulda kept Billy around – maybe even Jason, too. _

**_Notes, Timelines, Warnings:_**_ This is a sequel to "Shattered Dreams", just a short follow-up that came to me when I realized I left Jason sort of hanging at the end. This is a VERY belated birthday present for Dagmar. **Warning:** Deals with the aftermath of the death of a major character. **Warning Take Two**: I don't do romances. Feb/March 2004 _

**Reclaiming Dreams**

**By Mele **

Jason stood in front of the closed door for a long moment, eyeing the gleaming silver doorknob with obvious dread. Three weeks before he'd pulled the door firmly shut after returning from the hospital where Billy had quietly died. Unable to face the pain or the memories, he'd closed the room off and promised himself he'd deal with it later. 

Three weeks of feeling guilty every time he passed the closed door were finally enough to convince the former Ranger that 'later' had officially arrived. Taking a fortifying breath, he opened the door and stepped into what had originally been his spare bedroom. 

Memories hit with a rush: seeing Billy injured in the fight against the Cogs, hearing the diagnosis of permanent brain damage, finding his old friend alone and miserable at the facility in Stone Canyon where his father had placed him, moving Billy in with him, watching the one-time genius proudly hanging up his uniform from the burger place where he worked, holding his distraught charge after another bad dream or seizure, holding his friend's hand as his fragile grasp on life faded. 

Echoes of laughter and tears and shouts and whispers filled the small room, vying for space amongst the cheerful clutter that made Billy so happy in the last few years of his life. Bright colors, vivid images; a hodgepodge of childish delights and adult considerations, the room clearly reflected its prior tenant. A stuffed Taz stood guard over three prescription bottles under the electric blue desk lamp beside the narrow bed. Posters of the X-Men adorned the walls above a small bookcase full of adult education texts, while a well-used Nintendo shared floor space with a set of free weights in the corner. 

Resolutely squelching his emotions, Jason opened the door to the closet and retrieved a box from its depths. Setting his burden down on the neatly made bed, the dark-haired man removed the lid and quietly surveyed the contents. 

Shortly after Billy had moved in with Jason, Wallace Cranston came over with this box, explaining that it contained some things he thought Billy might one day want; mementos from his life before the accident in Angel Grove Park. Certificates, awards, even a couple of articles he'd managed to get published in his teens, were interspersed with pictures from the young man's childhood and three High School yearbooks. A couple of dog-eared paperbacks and a somewhat worse-for-wear teddy bear dressed up as Einstein completed the collection. 

Circling around the room, Jason gathered the framed 'Employee of the Quarter' award Billy had earned, the Tasmanian Devil novelty cup Jason had given him their first Christmas together, along with the carefully preserved notebooks from the classes Billy had taken in the last three years. These newer treasures were placed in the box, then topped with the framed picture taken at Adam and Tanya's wedding – the last time the whole gang had been together. The last time the whole gang would _ever_ be together. With tears filling his eyes, Jason reverently replaced the top on the carton, running gentle hands over it as if to offer comfort to the departed friend those keepsakes represented. 

Letting loose a deep sigh, the young man picked up the box, bowing under the weight of so much more than the simple contents. Moments later the neatly-labeled container was placed in his storage room, and the former Ranger paused for a refreshing drink in the kitchen before returning to his heart-rending chore. 

He'd just started back toward his task when a loud knocking caused him to detour to the front room. He opened the door to find Rocky and Kimberly standing on his doorstep with twin expressions of mingled anxiety and sorrow. 

"What are you guys doing here on a Sunday?" Jason asked, not realizing how unwelcoming he sounded. 

"You … uh … you mentioned you were going to clean out your … uh … spare room today, and I … we … thought you could use some help," Rocky explained with uncharacteristic unease. 

"That's not necessary," Jason began, only to be shushed by Kimberly. 

"Did it occur to you that perhaps we _need_ to help? That it would help _us_?" she asked gently enough, astutely reading Jason's state of mind from the look in the dark eyes. "Don't forget, we loved him, too. Just like we love you. Let us help." 

There was no arguing with that logic, and with grateful acceptance he pulled the door fully open and ushered his friends in.

"So what's the plan?" Rocky asked, surveying the room with a critical eye. 

"I've already taken the things I wanted to save out, so I guess we just need to pack it all up for Goodwill," Jason replied, gesturing toward the assorted empty boxes he'd left lining the hallway. 

"Do you have any large trash bags?" Kim wondered, her gaze going toward the closet. 

"Sure. Why?" 

"Trash bags – the big ones – are great for moving clothes. Easier to handle than boxes, and you can use them as padding when loading stuff in the truck or whatever. One of the tricks I learned when I moved the last time," she explained. 

"And with that in mind, I brought my dad's big truck, so we should be able to do everything with one trip," Rocky chipped in. 

"Guys … thank you," the big man said softly, fighting back another surge of emotion at his friends' thoughtfulness. 

Recognizing Jason's vulnerable state, Kimberly wasted no time in assuming a command-like attitude in an attempt to give her distraught friend a chance to recover. "Now, why don't you get me those bags and I'll attack the clothing while you and Rocky sort through the rest of this stuff," she suggested firmly, pushing up her sleeves with an exaggerated gesture that brought matching grins to the men's faces. 

"Yes, Ma'am!" Jason stopped just short of saluting the former Pink Ranger. 

~*~ 

With the three of them sharing the duty the afternoon passed quickly as boxes and bags were filled, labeled and loaded. Stories flew thick and fast in the small room, with the occasional bursts of laughter lightening the melancholy. 

"You know, it's all Billy's fault that Juan is crazy for Taz," Rocky mock-groused as he unpinned the multitude of renderings of the Looney Tunes character from the large bulletin board. "And just my luck, my son seems to take his fascination to the extreme and insists on acting like him," the young man complained dramatically. 

"Never could figure out why Billy got so fond of such an irritating character, but it seemed to make him happy," Jason noted, indicating the box he was filling with stuffed animals, most of which were versions of the Tasmanian Devil. 

"That and the X Men. Think at some level he remembered being a Power Ranger?" Kim wondered, looking up from her task of folding clothes. 

"Sometimes," Jason mused. "Not often, and not consciously, but … he was fascinated with superheroes and science fiction. The gaudier and bigger, the better." 

"Speaking of which, you do realize it's going to take about twelve coats of base paint to cover this up, don't you?" Rocky asked, gesturing to the alarmingly bright blue walls. "Unless you plan to keep them that color?" 

"No, it's a little too … bright … for my tastes," Jason admitted with a rueful look. "I couldn't believe it when Billy chose _this_ color. Maybe he really did remember more than I thought." 

"Yeah, it is pretty much 'Blue Ranger Blue', that's for sure," Kim nodded, surveying the room more critically now that most of the clutter was gone. 

"He always did wear it best." Rocky's atypically subdued tone caught the attention of his companions. 

"Rocky?" 

The dark-haired man shook his head, as if he could physically shake off the direction his thoughts had taken him. "Nothing, Kim. It's nothing." 

"Did you have a hard time being the Blue Ranger after Billy had held those powers for so long?" she prodded gently. 

Rocky chuckled a little ruefully. "You … you guys on the first team … you really have no idea how lucky you were," he sighed. 

Seeing their puzzled expressions, he tried to clarify that thought a little. "You didn't have to try to replace someone. When we realized that Zordon was going to offer us the chance to join the team, the very first thing that crossed my mind was 'please, let him give me the Black powers'. It's not that I thought Zack wasn't a great guy or a great Ranger, but … he wasn't you, Jase. You were the first leader, for Pete's sake! Talk about a hard act to follow. We used to discuss it, you know. Me and Adam and Aisha; how hard it was to live up to the reputations of our predecessors. Still, at least you guys were gone, you know? But, when I got the Blue Zeo powers, having to face Billy every time I morphed? Man, it was hard. He never said anything, never tried to make me feel bad or anything … but I knew it bothered him. And I kept thinking: 'they're going to expect me to come up with the plans … with the solutions … and I can't. I'm not Billy.' They never asked that, of course, but I still kept expecting it. I felt like it was this … I dunno … wall, I guess … between us. It kept us from being as good friends as we might have been otherwise. Guess it sounds pretty stupid and petty now," he muttered, turning a polished rock over and around in his hands and refusing to meet his friends' eyes. 

"It sounds hard. And lonely," Kimberly countered, her eyes sadly sympathetic. 

"It was, I guess. But then Billy got hurt, and it made me realize how petty my worries really were. Then _I_ got hurt, and that was that. No more worries about Ranger stuff. The only regret I have is that I let my discomfort keep me from fully enjoying Billy's company for too long." 

"You more than made up for that in the last five years," Jason interjected, having listened to their conversation silently. 

"Too little, too late." 

"I don't think Billy felt that way," Kimberly insisted. "He adored you. He really did. He was always telling me the crazy things you'd say and do, and he never sounded like you made him uncomfortable, like even Trini could at times. He … _related_ … to you more so than with any of the rest of us. You seemed to know how to make him feel accepted in ways the rest of us couldn't." 

"Well, the one thing I know way too much about is kids," Rocky grinned, taking the comfort in the spirit in which it was intended and typically needing to break the solemn mood. 

"Must like what you know since Sonya is carrying Number Three now," the former gymnast snickered. 

"You have no idea," the young man countered, once again serious. "I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have Sonya and the boys. They give my life meaning, purpose … and love. So much love." His expression turned wistful at the though of his ever expanding family. 

"Yeah, it's a lot different when you have someone to come home to," Jason agreed, his deep eyes mournful. "It's going to take some time to get used to coming home to an empty apartment." 

Kimberly rubbed the broad back comfortingly as she leaned her head against his muscular arm. She didn't say anything, but the look in her brown eyes was eloquent. 

They worked silently for a time, removing the final reminders of a beloved friend taken too soon. With the last of the cartons taped shut and stuffed in the back of the now-full truck, Jason looked around the stripped room with a heartfelt sigh. Without meeting his companions' eyes, he spoke softly into the new void. 

"Now what?" 

~*~ 

There is a certain comfort to be derived from the sheer predictability of time passing. No matter what might be going on in a person's life, sixty seconds will make a minute, and sixty minutes will create an hour, and those hours will eventually accumulate until days and weeks and even months have gone by. The sun rises, the sun sets, and the distance between 'now' and 'then' gets a little longer, easing the pain just that much more. 

A week - and three coats of white paint - after they cleared out Jason's spare room, the former Ranger leader moved his workout equipment into the room and started calling it his gym. In the beginning he found it uncomfortable being in that particular room, but with typical stubbornness he refused to give in to the feelings, and soon it became a refuge of sorts. A hint of blue bled through the white paint, creating a cool, calming atmosphere, which was perfect for the typically strenuous workout Jason preferred. 

Jason's life had attained a comfortable rhythm – a soothing predictability – that allowed the passage of time to occur without undue notice. If he wasn't actively happy … well, he wasn't noticeably unhappy either, so he was unconcerned. In this manner nearly five months went by, and who knows how long he might have languished in that comfortable rut if a chance encounter hadn't wakened him up. 

The produce section of the local grocery store is hardly the expected locale of a life-altering encounter, but such is the unpredictable nature of life. It was early evening, and Jason was almost home when he remembered that his cupboards were essentially bare. He really wasn't in a shopping mood, but putting the chore off wouldn't make it any less onerous, and finding a parking place near the entrance seemed to seal the notion that he was meant to be there. 

He breezed through the canned and frozen goods, stocking up on the staples of his diet, grabbing a loaf of whole grain bread as he passed by the bakery section. A package of chicken – on sale – and one of hamburger ensured he'd have adequate protein for the next few days. He snagged a gallon of milk and a brick of cheese from the dairy case, then headed toward his last stop: produce. 

Here was the best part of the whole store, as far as he was concerned. Not for the first time, he thanked the fates that he lived in an area where a good variety of fresh fruits and vegetables were available year-round. Slowing, he took his time selecting the best specimens. He was thoughtfully thumping cantaloupes when a familiar – and very amused – voice piped up from behind him. 

"Whatever they did, I'm sure they're sorry now. You can quit beating them up." 

"Kimberly!" Jason's smile was as quick as it was genuine. 

"Jason. It's good to see you. What have you been up to, outside of assaulting melons?" she asked, giving him a quick hug before stepping back to consider him. 

"I'm not assaulting them; I'm checking to see if they're ripe," he protested somewhat shamefacedly. 

"What? You hit them until they confess to their actual age?" she snickered, unable to resist the temptation to tease him. 

"No! My mom taught me that. You listen to the sound, if it's ripe it sounds a little more hollow. Or is that when it's green?" he trailed off with a frown. 

"Jason … you check their 'belly button' … see?" she held up a sphere, indicating the spot where it had been attached to the vine. Her voice took on a lecturing tone. "If it's an 'innie', it ripened on the vine and is probably good. An 'outie' may still be green, or at best is store ripened, and not as good. You find an 'innie', then you sniff it to see if it smells ripe," she explained, demonstrating for her friend. 

Something inside Jason that was tight and cold and oh-so-brittle suddenly cracked, easing a pain he'd not even realized he was carrying. The sudden laugh that burst from him shattered it completely, freeing him from its stifling thrall. 

"Jason Lee Scott, just what are you laughing at?" Kimberly demanded, looking at her friend as if he'd lost his mind. 

"You want me to … to … _sniff_ cantaloupe bellybuttons?" he gasped out between chuckles, leaning on the corner of the produce counter to keep his balance. "You honestly expect me to do that in public?" he wheezed, his laughter only fueled further by her outraged expression. 

What he was saying finally penetrated, and she looked at the inoffensive fruit in her hand as if it had mutated into a pervert. She hastily deposited it back into the bin before clasping both hands over her mouth in a frantic attempt to quell the rising tide of hilarity, her wide brown eyes meeting Jason's dancing ones. 

It was a lost cause, and the decidedly unladylike snort that escaped her attempts to keep quiet was the last straw for them both. More than a few patrons shot the pair suspicious glares as they passed, giving the hysterical couple a wide berth. Both were gasping for breath and holding their sides and stomachs before they were able to gain control again. 

"Oh, man, I'm sorry, Kim. I didn't mean to insult you, but …" he paused as she raised a hand as if to stop him. 

"Please, don't be ridiculous. You didn't insult me," she insisted, laughter still bubbling behind her words. "I can _not_ believe I actually told you that." 

"Is that really how your mom taught you to choose cantaloupe?" he queried. 

"Yeah. When I was eight," she snickered. "She never got around to explaining it in more … technical … terms." 

"Don't feel bad," he soothed, feeling he owed her some tradeoff for him laughing at her. "My mom brought me here just before I moved out on my own, and we spent three _hours _with her showing me how to pick out stuff. God, I thought the produce manager was going to kick us out before she was finished." 

"Well, for what it's worth, he's not exactly regarding us as poster children for normal at the moment, either," she reported, tilting her head to alert Jason to the middle-aged man watching them with a stern expression. 

"Well, what do you expect, you were sniffing his melons," Jason countered, not realizing how bad that sounded until the words were free of his mouth. 

They glanced at each other and with wordless agreement grabbed their baskets and hightailed it to the bakery department as their laughter once again bubbled over, leaving them both weak and gasping in the aftermath. 

"I swear, I'm never eating cantaloupe again," Kimberly insisted, wiping at her eyes with a tissue while Jason pretended to be absorbed in reading the ingredient label for some dinner rolls. "And quit acting like you care how many calories a croissant has," she grumbled without malice. 

"Just trying to distract myself," he admitted sheepishly, returning the package to the display and regarding his companion warmly. "I would like to be able to come shopping here again someday, you know." 

"Yeah, me, too." 

Jason noticed that the world suddenly seemed more … _there_. Colors were brighter, smells sharper, sounds clearer than he could remember them being for far too long. He looked around with something like wonder, as if seeing this familiar store for the first time. Kimberly noticed his expression and touched his arm with some concern. 

"Jason? Are you alright?" 

"Yeah. I'm … good. Really good," he answered distractedly before turning his full attention on his companion. "How about we finish our shopping and grab some dinner? I'm just not in the mood to cook tonight," he offered. 

"Okay," she replied, smiling tentatively up at him. 

It was a matter of only a few minutes to check out, getting their purchases wrapped in freezer bags to preserve them while they dined. Kimberly followed Jason's Bronco to Shawn's Prawns, a popular seafood restaurant, parking beside him in the well-lit parking lot. 

It wasn't until they'd ordered their dinners and were sipping their drinks – white wine for her and a draft beer for him – that Kimberly spoke of what she'd seen in his eyes at the store. 

"Something changed, didn't it?" she mused, half to herself. 

"I don't think I've laughed like that … well … in years, I guess," he replied. "It felt good. Normal."

"Laughter _is _good and normal, Jason. And maybe this means you're finally ready to let go of all that guilt you've been carrying around for no good reason," she continued, laying a small hand on his forearm. "Billy wouldn't have wanted that for you." 

The former Ranger leader looked into his companion's eyes, expecting the sympathy and understanding he found there, but surprised by the hint of envy he detected. She seemed to realize she was exposing too much of her true feelings and quickly shuttered her expression, but not before he was hit with an epiphany. 

Taken by surprise, he spoke without thinking. "And Tommy wouldn't have wanted it for you." 

She drew back as if stung, sitting up straight in her chair, every line of her body expressing her wish to escape from what he'd just said. "What?" 

"Am I wrong? Somehow I don't think so," he said with infinite gentleness. He wished he hadn't spoken so plainly, but now that it was out there he wasn't about to take it back. "Tell me you're not feeling some guilt for what happened with Tommy." 

"I …" she trailed off with a deep sigh, turning her gaze toward the window alongside their table as if seeking the answer outside. "I can't help but think that if we'd been together when Billy's accident happened that he would have been okay, that I could have helped him work through it," she confessed at last, tears standing in her big brown eyes. "I feel like I laid the groundwork for disaster when I broke up with him." 

"Kim, look at me." Jason waited until her gaze was once again upon him. "He had Katherine, me, the whole team, at his side when the accident happened. _None_ of us was able to get through to him. Much as he loved you, I doubt you could have either. That day … it destroyed something in Tommy. Maybe it _was_ cumulative, but for what little it's worth, I don't think anything or anyone could have changed the course of Tommy's destiny." 

He'd carefully monitored Kimberly's expression and reactions, and noticed a hardness that came over her when he'd mentioned Kat. A piece of the puzzle dropped into place for him. 

"It's not just guilt, is it? There's anger, too. Do you blame Kat for not being there for him?" he wondered. 

"She broke up with him less than a month later. Decided to go to London, for heaven's sake! Not very supportive," she groused. 

"Kim, I'm going to tell you something in confidence, here. Katherine intended to break up with Tommy anyway, she'd made her decision before the accident, and – knowing how she felt – I can definitely understand why she needed to leave," he explained quietly. 

"What? I … I thought they were happy together." 

Jason shook his head sadly. "I ran into her at the Juice Bar, fairly late one evening. I could tell she was unhappy, so I sat down to talk to her. It took some doing, but she finally told me what was going on. Seemed she'd begun to realize that maybe she'd pursued the wrong teammate. She said she'd been so intrigued by Tommy – which was, of course, intensified by Rita's influence – that she was blind to other options. It took her a while to figure out she'd started to fall for someone else." 

"What? She wanted to date you? Rocky?" Kimberly's expression was a mixture of puzzlement and minor outrage. 

"Forgetting someone, aren't you?" he prompted quietly. 

"Billy? Are you saying Kat wanted to date _Billy_?" she asked with wide eyes. 

"Think about it, Kim. Think about what Billy was like then, what Kat was like." 

She did. 

She remembered the Billy who was rapidly maturing, weathering the changes in the team with so much more grace than she'd expected. The sometimes shy, bumbling young teen that seemed to morph overnight to a calm, capable young man. A young man who had at the same time learned how to make the most of his good looks. 

Pairing that Billy with the coolly beautiful Australian – whose sweet confidence was paired with a lot more courage than anyone suspected – never crossed her mind before. But now that it did, she could see that it would probably have worked; and very darned well at that. Only, apparently the cogs got to Billy before Katherine had her chance. 

No wonder Kat grabbed at London like a lifeline. 

"I had no idea," Kim whispered at last, turning sad eyes to Jason. "God, that must have about killed her." 

"Yeah, it did. See, she _did_ have feelings for Tommy, too, so it was just too much for her, losing them both as it were." Jason sighed deeply, rolling his empty beer mug between his strong, capable hands. "I guess I'll never understand how Tommy was able to stir up such strong emotions in women." 

Kim's expression took on a wistful cast as she considered Jason's comment. "Tommy had such an aura of … I don't know … danger … sorrow … mystery. He wasn't like you or Billy or Zack, or any of the other boys I'd known. He seemed like the dark, mysterious hero of a romance novel. Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. And, the thing is, there was a lot of darkness in Tommy." 

"Tommy wasn't evil, Kimberly," Jason protested, shocked she would say something like that. 

"No, no … I don't mean darkness as in an evil darkness. I mean … darkness from loss, I guess. It was like he had empty places inside, places that could be filled with either good or evil … that's what Rita sought. But, Tommy wasn't inherently evil, so it couldn't last. Then it was like the powers filled up those empty places, made him whole. When Zordon took back the powers, I imagine it just opened those places back up, and all there was to fill them was guilt." She sniffled a little as she considered what her former love had gone through in her absence. 

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," Jason decided, taking her cool fingers into his warm hands. "These dark places, that's what attracted you at first?" 

"Not exactly. It was the whole aura of unhappiness; I wanted so much to be the reason for him to be happy. I still remember the first time I made Tommy's face light up with joy; I accepted a date with him to a dance. It felt so good to see him like that! Like I'd really accomplished something," she paused, obviously debating the wisdom of saying more. 

Jason stepped into the breach, recognizing that Kim needed to have someone hear her feelings about what they went through years before. "But, it wasn't enough, was it?" 

Kim took a fortifying sip of her wine as the waiter served their salads. "No, it wasn't. It's just … Tommy was very high maintenance. When he wanted to, he could make you feel like the center of the universe. But…the thing was … he was very focused on what he wanted and needed. As long as things were fine in his world, he could be as charming and attentive as any girl would want. But, if things weren't going well … it took a lot of work, let's say. He was never mean, or neglectful, mind you … just, he had a way of shifting the attention back to him and his problems." She stopped speaking, gazing outside again with a thoughtful look. Jason realized she was thinking it through and remained quiet, eating his soup just to give himself something to do. It was nearly five minutes before Kimberly took up her narrative again. 

"It wasn't his fault, really. In looking back, it's like those 'empty places' in him … those dark places … they created a hunger, a need for attention. From everyone and anyone. Parents, friends, teachers, whoever was around. I know he had a period of time when he was very young where he was at best neglected, at worst outright abused. He didn't really remember, just knew from what he'd been told was in his case files. After his parents died, he got stuck in the system for a time, and I guess his file got pretty full." Tears once again stood in her eyes as she considered what their friend had gone through. She pushed her salad around the plate a bit, forcing herself to take a couple of bites before continuing. 

"Anyway, something in Tommy desperately needed to be the center of attention. Mind you, I didn't realize all this when we were dating, I just knew he was handsome, and exciting, and sad and mysterious, and I can honestly say I had some wonderful times with him. And I really did love him. He could be so sweet, so charming … and so heroic. When he focused all that on you … well, wow. It was magic. He was a great dancer, a good listener, a darn fine kisser, and I'm guessing if we'd been old enough he would have made a wonderful lover. But looking back I recognize that it was always about him," she finished, watching as the busboy whisked away her still full salad plate and replaced it with her entrée. 

"When did you realize all this?" Jason wanted to know. 

"I started to understand things weren't quite normal about our relationship when I got to Florida and started spending so much time with 'civilians'. Watching how they interacted, meeting my teammates' boyfriends, meeting guys from the boys' training facility. When Tyler asked me out, I said 'no' like twenty times. But he kept persisting, and after a while I decided I wanted to go out as much as he did. So, I broke up with Tommy, and dated Tyler all of three times. And the rest, as they say, is history," she concluded, waving her fork around in a grand manner. 

"So, you wrote The Letter." In Kim's head she heard the capitalization in Jason's tone. "And broke up with him, clearing the way for Katherine to be your successor in more ways than one" 

"I guess I did at that. Even with just three dates, I saw that it was different with Tyler, more … even, I suppose. It got me wondering about my relationship with Tommy, then, when I came back to Angel Grove after Billy's accident … and I saw how he was then …" her voice trailed off as a tear meandered down one pale cheek. Absently Jason reached out to capture the bit of moisture, surprised when Kimberly turned her face into his hand. He took the hint and caressed her gently, offering comfort. 

"I took a psych class my first semester in college, hoping to understand Tommy. To figure out how to help him. What I learned was that I couldn't, not unless he wanted it. And he didn't." A stifled sob stopped her then, and Jason scooted closer, taking her into his embrace. 

He didn't speak, simply held her until the storm of emotion passed, leaving her drained of energy and a trifle embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't mean for that to happen," she murmured, hastily trying to set herself aright. 

"Kim, you needed that, don't apologize. You've been carrying that round for a long, long time, haven't you?" Sympathy shone in those incredibly dark eyes. 

"I didn't really have anyone to talk to about this. Trini would have been the best one, but she was so rarely around, and I didn't want to spend our time together being sad, you know? My mom … she thought Tommy had hurt me, so she wasn't an option. And … God … the way Tommy's parents looked at me at his funeral? I may as well have shot him, as far as they were concerned," she sighed. "That hurt. I'd always gotten along great with his folks." 

"I'm sorry I didn't realize what you were going through," the young man confessed, looking sorrowfully at her. 

"Jason, you were having your own problems. My God, remember how long it took before you'd even let the rest of us help? I couldn't burden you with my problems when you were so wrapped up in taking care of Billy. At that point we knew about the tumor, remember? Billy had to be your first concern, that's all there was to it." 

Jason wasn't quite as ready to forgive himself, but the determined look in Kimberly's eyes made it plain he would get nowhere apologizing. But as he studied her, he realized that something … some subtle sadness … had eased. He cast about for some way to change the subject and lighten the mood. 

"Guess I really have been out of the dating game too long when I make the girl cry on our first date." 

"Oh, are we dating?" she asked with a pert look. 

"Do you want to?" he countered, startled to find he was nervous about her answer. 

"Absolutely." 

~*~ 

It was amazing what a difference it made in both Kimberly and Jason's lives after they started going out. Days flew by instead of plodding along, eating became a pleasure rather than a duty, other relationships in their lives seemed to revitalize in the optimistic environment that surrounded the couple. 

They dated for two months before becoming lovers, their new intimacy only adding strength to their growing relationship. It was during a quiet period of cuddling in the afterglow that Jason found himself at yet another crossroads. 

"I wish we could just stay in here, forget about that whole 'going to work' business," he sighed, twirling a tempting lock of caramel-colored hair between his fingers and gazing down at the warm brown eyes of his lover. 

"I thought you enjoyed teaching at the dojo," Kim wondered with a slight frown. Jason had never expressed any dissatisfaction with his career choice before. 

"Oh, I do. But ... recently it just doesn't seem to be enough, you know? It's like, I enjoy it, sure, but there has to be more than just this. I just don't know what that something more could be." He flopped back on the pillows as if in defeat, with Kim following him down to settle on his broad chest. 

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" she queried, a small smile playing around her lips, remembering him as a youngster and playmate all those years ago. 

"Spiderman." 

She giggled and thumped his chest in chastisement. "I'm serious!" 

"So was I," he grinned, leaning up to kiss the tip of her nose. "I really wanted to be Spiderman." 

"Well, you had to settle for being a Power Ranger," she mock scolded him. "Didn't you have any dreams of what you wanted to be … realistically … when you grew up?" 

"Well, for a while there I wanted to be a fireman. Oh! Or a paramedic. I used to watch this old TV show, Emergency, about these two paramedics; John Gage and Roy DeSoto. It was made back in the 70's, but they were so cool. Always rescuing people, being the heroes. And they worked with firemen, so it was like the best of both worlds, you know?" His eyes glowed with the memory. 

"So, why don't you?" 

"Huh?" 

"Why. Don't. You? Become a paramedic. Or a fireman. There's no reason I can see for you not to be." The look she gave him was frankly challenging. 

"Kim, don't be silly. It was just a childhood dream," he demurred. 

"Jason, I'm dead serious here. I think I know what the problem is. You want … no … _need … _to help people. And teaching in a dojo isn't doing it. Think about it, Jason. First you wanted to be Spiderman. What did Spiderman do? He saved people, caught the bad guys, fought for truth, justice and the American Way," she paused when he snickered. "I'd watch it if I were you, Jason Lee Scott. You are a bit vulnerable right now," she threatened, moving her knee in such a way to prove her point. 

He choked back another snicker and gave her a contrite look. "Sorry." 

"Hmph. Then you wanted to be a fireman or paramedic, who _also _rescue people. Then you became a Power Ranger, and guess what? You saved people, saved the whole world, a time or two thousand. You seeing a pattern here?" 

There was no mirth in his face as he considered his words. "I guess you're right," he conceded, giving her a rueful little grin. "It just didn't occur to me to change careers after all this time." 

"All this time? Jason, we aren't even twenty-five yet! Hardly old fogies, and it's _never _too late to chase a dream. Just out of curiosity, why haven't you considered this before?" 

Jason shrugged, looking discomfited. "When I was recovering from the Gold Powers, I was too weak to consider training for a strenuous type of job, then the opportunity with Rocky came up. Then there was Billy, and I needed to be there for him, and firemen, policemen and the like, they have odd shifts. Just never seemed like the right time, I guess." 

"Well, now it is! Carpe Diem and all that! Go for the gusto! Or, as the Nike commercials say; Just Do It." She grinned at the look he gave her, but the hope and gratitude she saw in the dark depths made her heart soar. 

Jason was healing at last. 

~*~ 

"Hey, Buddy, sorry I'm late, but I got held up at work. Yeah, you're looking at Angel Grove's newest paramedic trainee. The hours are brutal, the pay sucks, and I love it. Go figure. I'm still teaching at the dojo on my days off, but Rocky says the new instructor is working out so well I should be able to pretty much retire from it in a month or two. And he's planning to buy me out, become the sole owner, maybe at the start of next year. Lots of changes, huh?" Jason had settled down on the inviting grass, gently pulling a couple of stray weeds from around the headstone that marked Billy's final resting place. 

"It's hard to believe it's already been a year since you left," he continued, running his hand over the cool polished surface of the marker. "I miss you – guess I always will. But I hope you are okay with the idea that I'm moving on, living. And I … I wanted to let you know something, guess I figure you have the right to be the first to know." 

His thoughts filled with his late friend, Jason reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. He opened it and gazed at the small diamond that sparkled against the velour lining. 

"I'm going to ask Kimberly to marry me. I know you loved her, but so do I, and I'm the one who's still here. I promise, I'll always treat her right, and if I don't you have my permission … no, my heartfelt request … to haunt me, okay? I wish …" the deep voice broke, and it was a few seconds before he could continue. "I wish … more than anything … that things had worked out different. But they didn't. So I hope you understand that this is a good thing for both Kim and me. And that our love isn't to spite you, more to honor you." 

Jason stood, pocketing the small box and staring down at the simple words, feeling their finality in their sheer starkness; just a name and a pair of dates to signify that once William Cranston lived and breathed and loved. 

"I love you, my little brother. I always will." 

Epilogue 

"How is she?" Tanya Park asked anxiously, rushing up to Jason in the hospital corridor, Adam on her heels.

"She's great! Of course, once the meds wear off she's going to be plenty sore, but she's doing fine," the newly-minted father announced. 

"Why did they have to do a C-section?" she wondered, reaching out to hold Adam's hand. "She said the doctors expected to her be able to deliver normally." 

"The baby was breach, and they couldn't get him to turn. And Kim was weakening so much, there just wasn't any other choice. The little guy ended up weighing in at 8 pounds 11 ounces," Jason said proudly. 

"Jase, that's not exactly a 'little guy' at that weight. Our first was only 7 pounds 2 ounces," Adam replied, smiling at his wife. 

"Can we see him? And Kim?" Tanya asked, looking down the corridor toward the postnatal care area she'd visited twice since marrying Adam. 

"Sure, come on." 

Jason led the way into the private room, gesturing for them to be quiet since Kimberly was clearly sleeping. He reached careful hands into the crib and lifted the small figure swaddled in a pale blue blanket, turning to show the sleeping infant to the Parks. 

"I'd like you to meet William Thomas Scott." 

**The End.**


End file.
